


How All the Thoughts Moved Around Our Heads

by zialless



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Childhood Friends, First Time, Implied Liam Payne, M/M, Yeahh! Male OC is south asian, Yes for diversity!, Zayn's Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-29
Updated: 2014-08-29
Packaged: 2018-02-15 05:31:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2217543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zialless/pseuds/zialless
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He hasn't been significant to Zayn since the first year of high school began. With all these years passing without any interaction between them; they really have faded from each other.</p><p>Does it suck he still lives next door Niall?</p><p>Does it suck that he ends up meeting him at the bus stop, having to stray ten meters away?</p><p>The answer to everything is yes and yes, he misses him too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How All the Thoughts Moved Around Our Heads

**Author's Note:**

> Hello guys! Before anything, I've got no beta so I'm gonna apologize before you guys start reading. Usually, I'd edit this five times before posting but this is PART ONE of a one shot. This half includes 15.8k, as for the other one--I'm still making changes. Yeah... That's my reason not to edit it 5 times, sorry. For disclaimer: this is all fiction. lol. KEEP THE FOURTH WALL UP AKA DON'T LINK THIS TO @ONEDIRECTION.
> 
> I had a few people wanting me to post this(I get really skeptical about my writing aka me falling back on the idea of posting it) but everyone has been hassling me for some time now, so it was really just a boost from them to go ahead with it and actually do it. I took me at least 8 months to get everything together so I appreciate feedback and stuff.
> 
> In the spirit of school, this AU is (mostly) for the seniors going in to the High School > College/Uni transition (since they could understand the upcoming issues) - you can do it!
> 
> So sorry if it's not the typical high school au with bullies, drugs, family issues, and running away. This was something I've been dealing with.
> 
> Title comes from "Ribs" by my goth princess, Lorde
> 
>  
> 
> [Talk dirty to me /RAD ASS SAXAPHONE SOLO GO/ ](http://fuckboyzayn.tumblr.com/)

It simply took about 3 hours to finish all his homework and it's now 2AM. It’s quite early for Zayn—usually finishing by 3AM. From the first year of high school, things really have changed. He's gotten into the habit of doing his homework and even his parents were wondering what happened to the kid who loved going out; although sacrificing his sleep to do so. He stays home more often, being more composed than some others. He's taken up the hobby of writing and avidly reading up on media law ethics.

Being in his fourth year now, he's taking those hobbies with him into College—making use of them by majoring in both writing and talking about the sleazy shit this world likes to hide under the bed, AKA journalism. Something in writing seems to make him feel better about life, regardless of the dishonesty within governments and all. Everyone thinks of writing to be deceitful and dull; always missing a side to the story. It’s something people have to ignore and something Zayn has to understand when he gets to college. For now, he just wants an escape and it's going to be with words. It might be typical but it's the only way from a man with few words to say something. But of course, if he wants to talk—he'll talk. That might mean that he's not going to shut up.  
  
Such as who _is_ important now, and the absence of who _used_ to be important.  
  
Niall Horan used to be important.  
  
He hasn't been significant to Zayn since the first year of high school began. With all these years passing without any interaction between them; they really have faded from each other.  
  
Does it suck he still lives next door Niall?  
  
Does it suck that he ends up meeting him at the bus stop, having to stray ten meters away?

The answer to everything is yes and yes, he misses him too.  
  
Niall Horan was something else; spoke a lot more than Zayn, sometimes on behalf of him, and he was even thinking of eating glue for Zayn at one point. Really, that's all in the past. Still, memories like those are always replaying in his head.

Behind the glue story; it was in grade 1 where Zayn missed a day of school because he was sick. Niall told him about this one kid who decided to do a very dangerous experiment—taking a taste of paste. Niall found it comical, holding his tummy when he told Zayn about what happened. On the other hand, Zayn didn't really know what concerned meant but he knew that second that's what he felt when he heard about that kid eating paste. Then suddenly, it was more frightening for Zayn to hear is:  
  
 _"Oh Zayn, I will it paste just for youu!"_  
  
Not only would memories constantly replay like this—it'll always go back to when a paper plane glided in his room through his window and knocked his Marvel figurines down. He'll see that same boy from 13 years ago with big, blue, hopeful eyes that seem to look awake all the time, neat brown hair with his bangs all messy above his eyes. He was small for his age, but hell of a lot braver than Zayn to be doing such a thing.  
  
On that day was when Zayn’s family moved into their new house. He wasn't quite happy about leaving his so-called kingdom (his painted room) just yet. It was at 5 when Zayn sorted that room out. Then a year later, he's finding himself out of place; boxed in with the colour of white—a new place he has to rename _home_.  
  
Zayn’s mom opened his window that day to let in some air. He noticed how close the neighbouring house was. The first floor roof just below his room extended right to the other house, having the house beside his family's do the same thing with the two roofs slopping together that he could just cross into the next house _. That's illegal!_ He remembers, telling himself and ignoring that idea. He believed houses aren't supposed to be that close at all. He prayed that his neighbour wouldn't be a creep who’d crawl over the two roofs nearly touching each other to go into his room.  
  
Instead, it’s a paper plane that came in, and that's when everything started. Folded elbows, guiltless face with chubby cheeks resting on his arms over his window—curiosity brought him over to his window to see Niall staring at him like that.  
  
It's just something Zayn remembers happening many summers ago. Sometimes, it's kind of best he doesn't because he ends up reminding himself he still lives right beside him.

Shit, it’s even funnier when Zayn remembers Niall being afraid of people older than him, and out of nowhere when their lives started—Niall’s running to people who he and Zayn have avoided throughout their lives.

Despite the colour of his hair changing from brunet to blond at the age of 12, things changed too fast for Zayn—even too drastic for him to accept.

 

 

Zayn tries to keep his eyes open, trying to focus all his devotion on his teacher upfront—talking about world issues and today, they're addressing the issues between racism and reverse racism. He asks himself every day at last period why he'd take such as class as this. It's like getting a grandma tattoo—you love your grandma but why would you get her inked on your arm? He loves learning about these things but the _long_ lessons, the work; it's infuriating. However, Zayn's quite fond of the arguments and debates that come behind this class.  
  
His head turns to the seat on his right, observing the empty presence of the lad who sits beside him, doing what he usually does, and that’s always being absent. It's not the matter of giving a fuck or worrying—he's stopped doing any of those ages ago. It's just that Zayn's used to having that seat filled. He's seated against the wall—it feels awkward. But he's slipping away from the familiarity of it being filled when the lad barely comes to class. When he does come to class, he's always 30 minutes late in. Zayn doesn't know how doing all of that; he still manages to be passing World Issues. Fuck, why's he even here?  
  
“Sorry, teach.” A voice comes from the doorway. There's nothing in his voice anymore that Zayn can turn his attention to so quickly like before—the good old days.  
  
He's right on schedule for once.  
  
He gives the teacher his late slips. It's no use for him to even be giving them in if all she does is throw it in the garbage and mark him in the attendance. He's always forced to get one when he comes into class, but all she does is that. It might be to get him to come early to class. Or come at all.  
  
Finally, Zayn can breathe, noticing Niall coming to fill his empty seat beside Zayn, who gives his undivided attention all on his work and not to look beside him. Assigned seats were music to his ears until his teacher had him sit beside Niall. It made his heart rush the first day because of a small hope they'll be friends again.

They're not.

He can feel his skin burning when Niall turns his attention to him, grinning as if he's pleased by something. Zayn doesn't want to know what's up with him, but he figures out that he might’ve been off property before coming to class because his nose is wrinkling in repulsion. Niall smells a lot like weed; fucking nasty pungent smell Zayn has to choke down for 45 more minutes.  
  
He tries to make it earlier home each day, trying to avoid any interactions with Niall. Still neighbours after 13 years and you’d think they’d be closer than they are now. He's just really mad at him for these last few years. It's not his fault he hates him now—but how couldn't he if Niall just forgot about Zayn like he doesn't exist anymore? Apparently, the sneaking-through the windows when they were 13 never meant anything—neither does it mean anything when Niall slept on his bed for no apparent motive. Zayn let him stay some nights, not giving a damn whether he snores or cuddles in his sleep or even drools on his pillow—he _was_ his best friend, for fuck sakes. It's not even about forgetting those moments anyways because there's bound to be a memory both of them wouldn't remember. He only feels like shit because he doesn't mean anything anymore in Niall's life when he means the world to him in his still.  
  
Zayn could remember the nights he didn't sleep alone. Most of those nights always had Niall in his room. Since today, he still wants to know why he always kept coming through the window just to sleep in his bed. He knows for a fact, Niall does have a bed. He saw his room once when he paid Niall a visit through the window as well when he would end up sick. Most of the time, they were always in Zayn's room. It might've been cozier than Niall's. Really though, he was always there every night beside Zayn, hogging the blanket. He tried his best to be understanding about it—he slept with no shirt on while Zayn kept his window open for the night breeze to come in.  
  
Zayn sticks himself in his room for the night, not giving attention to the knocks on his door asking him to play or to eat dinner. Guilt runs in his mind when he remembers he’s promised his little sister he’d play with her when he got home. He hopes she understands when he needs to be alone. His mind was occupied with homework and Niall. He didn't want him in there—not his voice, not his laugh, certainly not his fucking smile. They're all just moments—brief periods of time that shouldn't mean anything anymore. Really, Zayn's trying his best to forget.  
  
Zayn wakes up an hour past midnight, and he's on his desk—almost letting drool peek out the corner of his mouth. He swore to himself he was just gonna take a small nap and refresh his tense mind and it ends up into a three hour nap on his desk. If he wanted to sleep, he would've already been in his bed—not taking the chance of almost slobbering all over his homework. Taking his time isn’t the plan to night, as he throws himself into his bed, where relief was waiting for him. Relief was the soft padding under his bed that felt like a waterbed—pushing him down when he lets his pressure press down and the cold sheets as well.  
  
His eyes shut that moment, and it feels like whole second of sleep when he wakes up again at the middle of the night. Only, something was dissimilar. There was a weight on the right side of his bed under the blankets. It's so late to be livid but Zayn is, figuring out Niall's gone and sneaked himself in. He cracks his window open for air—no matter what weather. It's been a habit—not an invitation to Niall to come in. He didn’t mind it when they were twelve or thirteen. Nevertheless now; it's not okay to just walk himself through when they’ve never had a proper conversation in 4 years; let alone a conversation in the first place. They never spoke for a very long time now. Zayn would never forget his best friend dropping him for people better than him.  
  
“Horan?” Zayn rubs his eyes, trying to pull himself away from Niall. His hand was on Zayn’s collarbone and it should’ve felt good but it doesn’t. Pulling the covers off Niall was an idea but he doesn’t pull it off him, knowing he’d feel bad about it afterwards. He just moved from the caress of Niall’s fingertips on his bone.  
  
“Hey Zayn.” Niall laughs quietly, lifting the blanket off his head. He keeps his hand back, snugging it back under his chin as he greets him half-asleep.  
  
“What the—w-what are you doing here?” Zayn sighs. He's peeved how Niall can just walk himself in his room, and pretend like he has done nothing to mess Zayn's life up. The entire years of high school, Zayn let himself believe the silence and overlooking of each other’s company was his responsibility. Even when the hallway was empty and the two cross each other’s paths, neither did they say anything to each other. Not even the awkward small talk, ‘ _how’s the weather going?’_ He took the blame but he never did anything to build it up again. It’s what Niall wanted, and he’s kind enough to make his wishes happen. It just so happens Niall’s backing away from his own desire to keep away from Zayn. Kindness has its limits, and this was the line for Zayn’s.  
  
“I've missed you.” He breathes out through his unsteadiness. He blinks his eye open to Zayn who is completely unconvinced by his answer, even though it took a whole lot of his nerve to out to Zayn. He did climb over to his room after 4 years because he’s missed him. He is his best friend.  
  
"Sure." Zayn agrees satirically as he is sitting up now.  
  
Niall’s expression contorts, feeling unreasoned by Zayn’s outburst. “You don't believe me… Why would you say that? Y-you…” Zayn’s on the verge of forgetting that he grew up with Niall who knows what he means through his one-word answer. Now, Niall’s barely making any words out. "You used to know—"  
  
“Know you?” Zayn finishes. "That’s really not fair… You were the one who pretended like I didn’t exist. Then you're back here like you haven't done anything wrong. What do you want from me?”  
  
“I'm sorry.” He couldn’t answer. All he wanted was Zayn’s familiar warmth to ease him at peace for the thoughts that’s keeping him awake. Before jumping into Zayn’s, he lied on his bed, contemplating what to do next—and there was no other perfect choice for him to choose from. There was the option that he kept last, tried to push away, tried to ignore. Zayn said it himself that one night— _‘If you’re scared, you can always come to me.’_ It’s always been open to him to take- and now at the worst time yet; he takes it when he’s fucked up. Actually, he's fucked up since the start of their individuality.  
  
Zayn snorts, wanting to burgeon into laughter if it weren’t for his parents and sisters sleeping a few doors down stopping him. “You're not. Trust me. You say things you don't mean.”  
  
Niall narrows his eyes at Zayn, trying to figure out how to prove that he is. It’s hard when he knows he’s fucked everything up with Zayn. “Fine. I hate you then.”  
  
“Figured that. What do you really want from me?” Knowing Niall now, he probably needs a fucking wingman to find him someone good to get him sucked off and pay for pizza. But his desperation for help, being in his bed in the middle of the morning is just excruciating. Except why Zayn? How could Zayn have any connections to anyone who'd wanna blow Niall off? All the girls probably did.  
  
Niall, on his stomach, holds himself up with his elbows folded, trying his best not to be screaming at Zayn at this time. “I'm telling you, I hate you. You said I don't mean anything that comes out of my mouth. What do you think?”  
  
Zayn doesn’t wanna think anything. At least, not right now. “It's three, Horan. You can stay, but—”  
  
“Horan? Last name bases? Really?" Niall shakes his head. "I won't stay if you don't want me to.” He cuts in, trying not to hear any more out of Zayn that might just make him confess what he’s kept through these years. “See ya, dude.” Niall pats Zayn’s head before ripping the covers off him to quickly walk over to his window.  
  
“I-it's okay.” Zayn inches himself forward to stop him but he retracts, thinking it's best if Niall just leaves.  
  
“Don't worry. Nothing's gonna change.”  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“I still hate you.” Niall tries to tell him what he means by his eyes. Zayn, only to be so oblivious, just stares to the most casual spot on Niall’s body—his arm.  
  
He doesn't breathe until he hears a thud outside which means he's made it over to his side. He lets the confusion decay in him, not being able to go back to sleep right at that moment.

 

 

It's in his third block spare he meets Haider lolling in the library, all the way at the back between the book cases of the non-fiction Sci-Fi’s where he's taking a nap. They always meet here and Haider seems to have been here since lunch. It explains why Zayn hadn't caught his sight when he went out with Shereen and her sister in grade 10, Leigh. They always hang out together, sometimes.  
  
It has always been Haider and Zayn since grade 2. Haider's quite familiar with Niall, even to the extent like Zayn—minus a few months since Zayn and Niall knew each other before school started. Haider was fucked up back then, has got this really hyper-attention—yet, bad attention span. He was always quick to ask Zayn questions that at one point, he almost cried. Never did he acknowledge Zayn's answers, always moved to a new question and somehow still remember what Zayn said. He's still fucked up now.  
  
He left in seventh grade for another school, and didn't come until tenth grade when he transferred from this other school. He said he hated it, even willing to walk 20 minutes or bike every day (if the weather is good) just to get to Zayn’s school. This wasn't his home school like his two friends from elementary.  
  
"Hey." Zayn speaks quietly, tapping Haider's knee. It's really uncomfortable for Zayn to look at Haider sleeping against the wall. Why didn't he just lie down? Suppose it must be comfortable for him. Zayn can't really see that. "I don't know if you got lunch. But I snuck you in a piece."  
  
"Barbecue base?" Haider grumbles. Knowing them two, lunch is pizza. It'll always be pizza. No one's ever putting up good restaurants in the public square across the street. Not unless they want to be broke and eat at the all-you-can-eat sushi restaurant, then fucking £2 walk-in medium pizzas it is. Only on birthdays would they actually go in to stuff themselves sick. Yet, both their birthdays were around the same time. How sickening.  
  
"Shereen wanted things _normal_ today." Zayn shrugs, placing the bag with the slice inside over Haider's lap. That meant tomato base.  
  
"Oh, fuck my ass..." Haider grumbles distastefully as Zayn, with a deadpan face, raises an eyebrow. "Thank you, Zaza."  
  
Zayn face softens when Haider actually looks relaxed. "I really hate that name. Do you think you can actually call me by my real name?"  
  
Haider sighs in content when he pulls out his lunch from the bag. " _Zaza_ , I think both you and I know that won't happen. Been twelve years—when do y'hear me say your name?"  
  
Zayn grimaces about this. He's right. Why's he even asking? "When you're being sarcastic, serious, and introducing me."  
  
"And that's..." Haider nips off a bite from his pizza while he nods his head for Zayn's answer.  
  
"Rare." Zayn says. "Very rare."  
  
"Not quite." Haider lets his pizza rest on his lap, blinking at Zayn. "You seem troubled."  
  
"Mhm." Zayn agrees. It's not in his will to really hide anything from Haider. In the end, Haider's going to be dragging it out of him anyways. "Me and Niall kind of spoke."  
  
"About goddamn time!" Haider exhales. "What about? When? Did he say sorry? Are you f’real talking again?"  
  
"Shut up. You always do this. Let me tell you everything."  
  
Keeping his cool, he ignores half of Haider's outbursts, making his way to the end of yesterday's conference—or is it a run-in? Whatever kind of occurrence it was, he made it through in 5 minutes. All Zayn could really make out of it was that he hated meeting Niall again. Haider doesn't even have to hear Zayn verbally admit it. He would already be able to hear it; his voice becomes like an irregular line with its condescending high peak laughs and mocking low voice when he talks about things that make him peeved. He seems happy telling a story, when really, he's not. Also, there are more words spilling out of his mouth than the usual. There's a difference when he's talking about things he's passionate about.  
  
He never felt so angry seeing Niall in his room—let alone without permission. Just raising his fucking window after all this time, acting like they're fucking best friends again. Last time he checked, Niall left him.  
  
"Crafty, that. I didn't think he would." Haider seems to be talking to himself, and Zayn ignores that sense, eyes widening at him.  
  
"You knew?"  
  
Haider huffs. "Gosh Zaza, I do hang out with Niall from time to time. We go way back—"  
  
"Yeah, I was there." Zayn twists lividly.  
  
"So is he…! Here, I mean." Haider points at the front of the library with his chin while he chews. "Studying. Wow."  
  
Zayn thinks it must be for next block because they have a test on the issue of racism. "What, not kissin' up girls in his free time?"  
  
"Free time? Block three, he's got Accounting." Haider narrows his eyes to see if Niall's actually studying. Holy fuck, that boy is—despite his tendency to skip classes and all. "And kissing girls? He’s fucked—I mean kissed guys. Though he takes when he can get."  
  
Zayn's thinking bi, but it's not in his interest to actually care about his sexuality. It's unlikely anyways, hearing all these rumours from parties floating around in school hallways.  
  
"I'm going to say hi." Haider says right before Zayn can protest on that idea. He's up walking towards the table where Niall's more frustrated than a 17-year old who's waiting for Dora to say the answer even though they've said it already.  
  
Zayn stays back, doing nothing but waiting for Haider to come back. For now he's cleaning up his lunch. Shit, Zayn hates doing this for Haider. He never learns to pick up after himself. The librarian would ban both their asses if he found out they snuck in food.  
  
Zayn grimaces right when he hears Haider coming back as he's shoving the empty, greasy bag from Dominos inside his backpack where it deserves to be.  
  
Zayn huffs. "This is the only place I could go to without anyone bothering me. You leaving your garbage isn't—"  
  
"Really? The library?" Niall cuts in with this unimpressed tone. "Hey Zayn."  
  
Zayn keeps his eyes low, zipping Haider's bag before he could toss it back in his corner. He leans back on the shelf; elbow perched on his knee where his hand holds his chin as he looks the opposite way where Niall's standing.  
  
"Haider is in the washroom, cleaning the drool on his face you never told him about." Niall chortles subtly. "He said to keep you company but I got better things to do. But, I felt that I should be nice and do so... For him."  
  
He feels his lungs tightening to the point he's gonna have to ask his doctor about asthma. The longer he stays here, the closer he's ready to dying. His body is shaking in the inside—hard to stay composed on the outside when Niall's irking his nerves.  
  
Even more so; he asks, "Sleep well?"  
  
Zayn turns his head more to the right when Niall sits on the other side of the shelf, just inches away from Zayn. Whatever Haider's fucking up to—he needs to be doing it fast.  
  
"Guessing not." Niall answers for Zayn. "I didn't either if you wanna know."  
  
Silence.  
  
"Guess not as well. You don't wanna know."  
  
Silence again. Zayn's scratching his throat because swallowing this suppressed anger down isn't cutting it out.  
  
"You do still talk right? That wasn't just some audio playback just a minute ago."  
  
Zayn starts to shuffle inside his bag, searching for notes he could be reading up for exams. It's totally irrelevant to what's around him when exams begin in a few months. Niall relates to exams—irrelevant to Zayn's life.  
  
"Please. Say something." Niall's hand creeps over Zayn's, staying right over his as Zayn keeps it on his thigh. Both are hoping for something. Niall's hoping for forgiveness and Zayn's hoping Niall stops because he can't take it anymore. The only one who could make those hopes come true would be whoever acts upon it.  
  
Hating the heat over his hand, Zayn scoffs when he jerks his elbow, scaring Niall's hand off of his. Standing up with his bag, he bids a quiet and hurried goodbye.  
  
"Fuck's wrong with you guys?" Zayn exhales when he brushes by Haider when he leaves the library.  
  
Seeing how today went—that place can't be his haven anymore.

 

 

Zayn feels too sick to go to school (lucky it's Friday) and it's not because of what he ate or what's conjured up in his body to make him feel so ill. It's the encounter with Niall that scratches the wall of his stomach. And he's good enough to fake sick that his parents approve of his presence at home. It gives him time to catch on the sleep he misses many nights, and just wallow away because nothing feels better than not existing.  
  
It's soon that he finds himself in reality again. That means deep thinking and that means he's thinking of Prom.  
  
Prom is coming soon—three months’ time and so would the moment he's been waiting all these four years to happen. Graduation is also upon him, something he should look forward to but isn't. He wasn't up for the red gowns with yellow accents. Not even the throwing of hats that declared high school is over for them.  
  
His letter to Collége de France came in about a week ago. He never felt so happy in his entire life to be living around Latin Quarter in Paris. Yet, his dad cried more than he did about his acceptance letter. As for his mom, she gave a scoff when she learned taking the acceptance letter would mean moving there to Paris. Sad to admit and agree with his mom, he's not ready to move to Paris all by himself and live all alone in debt. He's not even ready for Prom. Being ready wasn't going to happen. In two months, he's going to be at one of the milestones of his life everyone speculates you have to have a date at, followed by the ceremony of finishing high school. It's too much for Zayn that it makes him feel light headed. All of that is going to happen, and he's not ready.  
  
There's a very chilling breeze hissing from the window that sends Zayn to stand on his feet to shut his window. Out of fucking nowhere, Niall just happens to be an addition to one of the worst things Zayn is thinking about.  
  
It's something Zayn shouldn't have had to ever see in his entire life. Leaned against the wall, too afraid to look outside his window again, he pushes his window to close from the side. Locking it would be a perfect thing to do if Zayn wants to avoid seeing Niall being fucked again. And he doesn't. It's not really what he wants to even have replaying in his head. All this time, he thought Niall was straight. He's actually bisexual?  
  
So much for staying home, he's sicker staying here in the first place.  
  
He huffs, pressing his finger in the corner of his eyes when he flops back on his bed. Zayn has learned closing the window doesn't block out the aggravating noises from his neighbour—it only muffles it and sends another reminder of what your neighbour is doing. And that is that they're being fucked.  
  
So for the rest of the day until tomorrow, Zayn sleeps with his earphones on. His music could be heard even without it being plugged in the ears.

 

 

When he gets up, he's quick to clench his eyes shut as he heads to the shower. Zayn can't really take what he saw—his window is a whole other thing he forbids himself to take notice of.  
  
But when he walks into his room again, it's the first thing he sees. Second, Niall on his bed.  
  
"Zayn." Niall calls. He's got a serious tone on. _That's new._  
  
Zayn huffs, digging through his drawers for boxer briefs and clothes.  
  
“Stop for a moment.” Niall has a grip on Zayn's sides.  
  
Zayn tries to inch forward to his drawer—only to be held in place by Niall's hands.  
  
“Would you fucking talk? You saw what happened yesterday?” Dumb question—of course Zayn saw everything. It was probably deliberate the way Niall was hanging off his bed, moaning loudly that what should supposedly be music to Zayn's ear flowed out through his window and into his ears. He saw how drained Niall was, bouncing to the rhythm with the bed as, who-knows-who-fucked-him took the opportunity to do something Zayn has thought about before. Even seeing something for .394 seconds when he saw through his window, it's something he can't forget.  
  
“Fuck you.” Zayn huffs.  
  
“I was just having a little fun.” Niall laughs in his ear, jolting Zayn to finally move.  
  
“I don't care what you do.” Zayn scoffs exasperatedly. Just how many times is Niall gonna break into his room to try and reconcile things? Zayn was on the close verge of it—to finally accept Niall's apology from the _'I'm sorry'_ from the other night. If he hadn't gone and pulled that dick ass move in the library and a fucking sex show through his window, he wouldn't be so pulled back into accepting his best friend's apology.  
  
“Can I hold you then?” It was more of a piss-off question, rather than a genuine question. "Since you don't care and all."  
  
Zayn turns to make a face-off, looking everywhere but Niall—whose eyes peer into Zayn’s, trying to pull out what Zayn’s mind has been wrapped around. He’s not in denial about Niall—far from it. He finally glares at him, rolling his eyes so slow from the side and straightforward to Niall's, unamused. “What do you want, Niall? Tell me and I might make it happen. I'll do _anything_ for you to leave me alone.”  
  
Niall's arm coils around Zayn's neck. This doesn't faze him at all, when Niall leans closer. “Kiss me to prove how much you want me to leave.” That elicited onto Zayn's lip, and he didn't back away like he usually does.  
  
That's not hard at all. Zayn really wants him gone, enough to go through something stupid such as this. He leans in, only to peck Niall on the corner of his lip—like a fucking family kiss, like the ones grandmas would give because they feel that the cheek isn't right there, being shoved into their faces for a kiss. Somehow they still go for the weak kiss on the corner of the lip. Zayn pulls back, and turns from Niall without any words to tell him how much he actually wants him gone.  
  
Niall grins, nodding coolly. Zayn doesn't see but he knows Niall's probably doing something arrogant and selfish. “It's like you actually like me enough to want me to stay.”  
  
Zayn scoffs, loosening his shoulders when he lets the heavy air out. He turns, finding Niall lying down on his bed, legs hanging off the edge. Niall even tucks Zayn's pillow under his head, making himself home to a place he's hesitantly welcome to. There's a reason Zayn can't welcome his old best friend into his room anymore like before. He doesn't mind the break-ins into his room—only that was years ago when Zayn really cared about Niall.  
  
“What do you want me to do?” Zayn sighs, rubbing his hand on his chest. “I already kissed you—and fucking close your eyes.”  
  
Listening, he clamps his hand over his eyes while Zayn strips from his towel and into his briefs. “Not well enough to prove to me you want me out.” Niall laughs cockily. “C'mon Zayn, I know you've got it in you."  
  
“I-I don't. Why do you think that?” Zayn exasperates, putting his briefs on.

“Why deny it? You don’t have to.” Niall laughs. “People _have_ been saying things about you.”

“I don’t care! I haven't—kissed anyone.” Zayn's finally dressed. It's about time. If Niall didn't feel the need to stop him, he'd be done long before Niall entered the room in the first place. He's got this white shirt with denim washed skinnies—something he can wear everywhere without having to change. He knows he'd be trying to get out the house just so Niall wouldn't have to bother him. It's Saturday, and Niall doesn't have plans? Unbelievable.  
  
“T-that's—not.... That's not fair, Zayn.” Niall's got his elbows holding him up to look at Zayn.  
  
Now he's not sure whether he means it's unfair to know his potential and keep it a secret from him or how Zayn looks really good right now (he always has), or how unfair it is that he's just lying to Niall about not kissing anybody, _or_ how he didn't have his first kiss with him. It annoys him how Zayn could've been his, if he didn't get so afraid of liking him. Sometimes he regrets pushing Zayn away, because he wouldn't be who is without Zayn.

The arrogance and confidence was from the fucks who behaved such so. It's nothing Zayn would have if it wasn't for Niall too. Minus arrogance—he was really humble for some reason. Zayn did think of himself sometimes—or more like for himself, trying to put himself against a protected wall so Niall wouldn't have to hurt him. This whole thing wouldn't have any effect on Zayn who's hurting enough that Niall can't understand, but it just is. Niall orbited around his life like the moon and Zayn was the sun—vice versa, even—because he really loved Niall enough to let him continue sneaking in his room. And he's done it at the worst time yet—when Zayn's finally at the pinnacle of getting over.  
  
“Look, I've done what you've asked. Stay in my room all you want—I'll be leaving.” Zayn grabs his sneakers.  
  
“Where're you going?”  
  
“Why, so you can annoy me all day around too?”  
  
“I—” Niall didn't like how that sounded in his ear.  
  
Annoy him? No, that's far from what he's trying to do with Zayn. To even think that all he was doing to Zayn is annoying him, kind of grazes a blade into his heart. It's as if everything he's trying to do to fix the void of his absence in Zayn's heart, was for vain—both ways vain: selfishly and a useless fulfillment. He's clear as acidic lakes, how Zayn loves him. He just doesn't understand how Zayn can stop himself around him when Niall's hands get sweaty when he thought about Zayn. Most of the times it's when he's contemplating whether he should enter his window or not, for old time’s sake. Niall somehow, has to find a way to redeem himself whenever Zayn gives him the cold shoulder. He can't live with Zayn treating him like this. And every day, held up in his room, he'd go through such an argument in his mind to talk to Zayn. He throws it all away anyways, so he doesn't understand why he keeps pushing for Zayn to look at him like before—without unwanted tension and resentment.  
  
He had to, despite the little thoughts in his head on why it's wrong to try and win Zayn back, he ignores them. He just had to. His reasons weren't exactly justified but that's good. If it were justified, then he'd probably be more hesitant and nervous than he is now.  
  
Although, Zayn heard how he stopped himself, not even midway into his sentence. “I can drop you off your house if you want—unless you wanna go through the window, or _whatever_.”  
  
“No, I'm coming with.” Niall pushes himself up, causing Zayn to raise his eyebrow at him.  
  
As much as he wants to tell him to go back home, he shakes the thought out of his head of Niall's sullen expression, and instead says: “well… You look like you've just woken up.” Hopefully, that makes him feel bad—it's subtle and not rude, so Niall can hold off rushing to get ready for Zayn and let him go alone.  
  
But that's not how he interpreted it. “Give me five minutes and I'll meet you out front.” He puts a leg over the ledge of the window.  
  
Zayn shrugs to himself, face contorted wryly. It would be a dick move if he just left Niall. Would it? Yeah, it would. He isn't a dick. That wasn't him.  
  
Zayn ties his laces on Niall's stairs. It'd been years since Zayn found himself sitting on these concrete stairs. The last time he'd ever done this was summer of 09'. Somehow, that year did wonders for everyone. Even when Zayn and Niall had no clue what to do that day—they just spent it alone, together.  
  
They grew out of the shadows of their room (also being _too_ hot), they were always outside, walking around in the city, the quiet parts such as the harbour or the giant park near their house, not the same one with the playground they used to go to. They went wherever, doing absolutely nothing but came home around the time street lights would be on. They'd be out by an hour after noon and back in the evening. That was six to seven hours together every day, excluding weekends. And it meant a lot to the both of them—knowing they can't spend long hours like this outside with the same person every day without wanting to strangle them. They never ran out of anything to talk, never ran out of places to be alone. And they weren't even dating. That's just how things were, and it was natural. Genuine.  
  
Like the beginning of their unusual but usual rookie treks such as the past, Zayn's left to wait past 5 minutes for Niall. It's not new with him, so he sits patiently; checking the text Haider sent him just about twenty minutes ago.  
  
Zayn doesn't have a good habit when it comes to texting. His phone isn't important to him—so he'd leave it in his room while he's down at the living room, oblivious to the fact that there's 10 people texting him. Haider makes an exception, but every one of those people texting—besides family, don't mean anything to him. So he doesn't have to text back to those just trying to get into his pants—he's not stupid, he's seen enough of _'swerving'_ to not be caught in such a traffic.  
  
 ** _R u still mad?_ ** Zayn reads off Haider's text from his phone  
  
 ** _Fuck you._ ** Zayn replies back, locking his phone so he's not distracted by Haider's uncoordinated texts.  
  
“Funny how you tag along with me, and you don't even know where I'm going.” Zayn lets out casually, hearing the door open behind him.  
  
“Funny you wouldn't think I'd go with you, regardless where you decide to go.” This doesn't surprise the outmost out of Zayn. They have done these kinds of things for two years before Niall had gone and cut him off.  
  
Niall cleaned up well for someone who had five minutes to fix himself. Actually being extended to ten minutes but it might not matter to him or Zayn anyways. If Zayn doesn't want to admit it; being blinded by his dissatisfaction for Niall's attitude towards him for the last few years, he does miss when he and Niall used to talk regularly. Just a bit.  
  
It's quiet first when they walk down the street, just leaving their neighbourhood for downtown. It's kind of excruciating to be living amidst the Leed's commotion and fairly crowded streets. When they pass the heavy crowds of tourists around them, when Niall's just a step ahead of Zayn, they still keep mute.  
  
Ten minutes after their last conversation at Niall's front door, Zayn continues. “So what are you gonna do if I'm in Paris for school?” He huffs afterwards, waiting for what seems to be hours for Niall's answer.  
  
And Zayn does get his answer, when he hears Niall scoff, expression twisted in some kind of way like Zayn's just told him unimportant, stubborn to realize that it is important. “Paris, huh?”  
  
He nods. “Officially a resident when September comes, meaning I'm gone by the last week of August.”  
  
“Interesting.” Niall lets out incoherently.  
  
“That's why I'm going to the bookstore. I'm reading up on French.”  
  
“What are you going for?” Niall asks.  
  
See, if Niall wasn't ignoring him, he'd know that Zayn has been working hard to get into journalism. And Paris has this amazing college for English Academics. It was in the top 3 of colleges in the pamphlets his teacher had given him to check out. The two other colleges were in UK, but Zayn wanted to travel out of the country and make milestones in his life. Since Paris is giving him both of the opportunities, he's taking it. He doesn't need to know French fluently but if he's gonna be living there for some years, he'd have to start learning, find an English-French speaking roommate who can talk to the locals for him. Hell, he might just meet many of those French-slash-English or English-slash-French speakers.  
  
“Journalism.” Zayn simply replies.  
  
“Since when did you write?” Niall asks another question.  
  
It's probably not the best time to make Niall feel bad about anything, Zayn thought. “A long time now.”  
  
“Uhm, what do you write?” Niall knows he's been doing it after he cut him off.  
  
“Nothing specific.” Zayn tells him loosely. He knows Niall's doing small talk, not caring whether he has been writing or not. Years before, Zayn had tried to show him one piece he did—Niall told him to wait. It never happened.  
  
Niall knows Zayn doesn't want to out any more of his affairs to him, knowing that Zayn had no interest telling him about what he loved because Niall really doesn't have the right to ask him after all these years what he's been up to. Zayn doesn't even want to talk to him.  
  
They've seen each other in the halls, had at least one class in a semester each. Neither did he bother to say hi nor didn’t he say happy birthday when the time came— and he know why it'd be hard for him. But seeing how Niall surrounded himself with friends that pushed Zayn out from his sight, _hi_ isn't exactly what Niall is supposed to say; nor make these small-talks to avoid the silence of the air.  
  
Zayn made sure to make Niall's absence not mean to him, making friends that filled the void he left in Zayn. He has good friends, especially Haider who Niall has known just as long as Zayn. They are closer than Niall and Zayn are right now, and Niall's forced to watch himself be replaced with his own friend.  
  
They both have a lot of friends—but the groups are totally different. Zayn has managed to get along with the majority in their grade, despite his quiet factor on everyone. Even though he's got this factor, everyone never pretended not to like him like they do with Niall. He's just broken from the end of year ten, when Niall knew he couldn't fix anything with Zayn after leaving him so many times for people who aren't even his friends today. Niall had himself surrounded by the attention of the bigger kids in school. Niall could get along with everyone in school, but he chose the ones who had more connections, who had other connections. He ditched Zayn for another group, then another, then another, until Zayn had to force himself to belong with other people. It wasn't until year ten when Haider transferred to their high school after making a bad decision of the other one. So year 9, Zayn dedicated it into finding friends, while Niall was consumed into getting out of the friend circle of his elementary school—even Zayn.  
  
This whole thing never left Zayn's head. When he sees Niall through the halls, he has to look everywhere but straight. He's aware Niall's there and he just couldn't find himself to look straight with his peripheral vision focusing on Niall. Sometimes he just had to pull his phone and type his lock code in really slow so it seemed like he's occupied.  
  
Now, Niall has reached the point of having barely any friends, and Zayn can understand why. Niall wasn't at first all consumed in himself but everything just had to be about him. It made Zayn question what the hell Niall was up to because it isn't him. That wasn't who he grew up with. He couldn't be so sure anymore because Niall had changed completely, almost to an asshole. Never mind, actually _into_ an asshole because there was no limit Niall had set for himself.  
  
Zayn almost pitied him when he finds Niall all alone, asking Haider for people who don't matter to him—asking for people who could even care less about Niall too. Sometimes, he'd steal Haider away because he can't steal Zayn away, knowing how badly he's fucked up. He doesn't mind that he steals Haider away from him when it's lunch—he was probably the only one who didn't overlook Niall like everyone else. Zayn wasn't the type to look at him like that as well but the longer he watched Niall slip away, consumed by being independent in the worst way, he had to put the past behind him.  
  
"Did you buy a suit for prom yet?" Niall asks out of nowhere, making one of Zayn's eye squint in confusion.  
  
"Yeah." Zayn says, uninterested. He really doesn't know what he had just said yes to.  
  
"I was wondering if you would go with me." Niall says hurriedly that Zayn actually had stopped walking to look Niall dead in the eye.  
  
"Go with you suit shopping?" Zayn scoffs. Zayn's got plenty of suits—he doesn't even have to buy one to begin with.  
  
Niall shakes his head in wonderment before stammering, "Y-yeah. I can't find a good shop."  
  
"Check House of Fraser."  
  
"T-Thanks?"  
  
Being alone with Niall just isn't the same anymore. Zayn leaves Niall at the entrance of the bookstore to wander while he heads to the back to find English-French dictionaries and other books that might help him. He sits himself down in the Languages section of the store, reading a bit of the books he's chosen for Paris before buying them. Although, he is consumed more on Niall than he is with the book he’s supposed to be reading.  
  
Then he begins to wander in the fiction novels, the classics aisle. There, Zayn sits down again, reading a bit of the book he's always loved: _The Sun Always Rises_. No more than two pages, tears drop on the page of the book, now obligated to buy this book because of the wet pages. It doesn't matter because Zayn lost his copy anyway and he would need books to drown his mind into occupancy. Only, this book was such a bad choice for him to be reading in a moment like this.  
  
It's been such a long time since Zayn opened the book. What he can remember most about it was that it follows this American-Journalist who lives in Paris, that falls in love with this girl that calls herself Lady Brett who's pretty fucked up for someone back in the 1920s. They go to a nightclub, and she tells Jake, the journalist, she loves him. Only, they were both aware of the unstable relationship they are going to have if they date. The next part which they call ‘ _second book’_ is a bit of a blur with the bullfighting because he really focused on Jake and Brett.

Although, at the end, all Zayn could remember was Jake finding Brett all alone in a hotel without her husband Romero or any money, confessing that she might just go back with Mike, her fiancé. And in the end, the two catch a cab and talk about what might have been.  
  
 _We could've had such a damned good time together.  
_  
 _Yes, isn't it pretty to think so?_  
  
He wipes his face with the base of his hands, just before standing up to find Niall at the end of the aisle the whole time. _He was such a fucking rat—quiet and aware of his surroundings,_ Zayn thought to himself. He keeps his sight down with his eyebrows narrowing in, shaking his head ever so weakly at Niall as he walks past by him. Niall couldn't even find the words to ask what's wrong. And he let him leave, right after Zayn paid for his books to go somewhere else Niall didn't tail behind.  
  
Zayn finds a smoke in his pocket, immediately smoking it just as he leaves the smokes store. He needed to be outside, so he ordered himself tea and asked for a seat outside their patio. Patios were always better but they only open during the summer, and summer here only felt like a week.  
  
Zayn allows his elbow to rest up on the table, with the base of his hand joint with his wrist pressing on the bone of his brow as he squeezes his eyes shut after blinking, letting the smoke escape his lip.  
  
God knows where Niall is. They shouldn't have tried again.  
  
“Oh, Zaza! You're here. Tell me you're not mad—” Haider cuts himself midway his sentence, looking at the condition Zayn's in—smoking with this surly look on his face that forces his eyes to be low. “What's wrong?”  
  
“Nothing.” Zayn blows out a shaky amount of air. “You wanna join? I'll buy you a beer or something.”  
  
“Right. Just don't smoke around me? I don't want to die so early.”  
  
Zayn couldn't help but grin as he smothers his cigarette under his feet. He waits till Haider gets around the restaurant to call the waitress for an order of coke and onion rings because he remembers Haider's still seventeen until December.  
  
Haider glares at him just as he sits down, hearing the whole 'Can I have coke and onion ring plate?' If only they made exceptions. It's not his fault his birthday's so late.  
  
“What are you doing here?” Zayn asks, best to keep things from the topic of what happened 10 minutes ago.  
  
“I was buying Black Ops again.” Haider shrugs.  
  
“Again?” Zayn repeats.  
  
“The second one is really shit. I don't know why I traded it in.” Haider takes a breath before continuing. “Kino's not that bad. It gets boring because you do the same thing over and over. I played _Call of the Dead_ at my cousins—loved it. Especially George chasing after me? Terrific.”  
  
“I actually made a system for that map.” Zayn loosens the grimace on his face. Fourth months have gone by since he touched his Ps3.  
  
“There's a system? That place is surrounded by so many entrances Zombies can come through.”  
  
Zayn explains the scheme he made up. It was concocted by panic when he was the last person on his team. It was about round 21—pretty long for anyone in _Call of the Dead_. Sticking with it, anyone could get pretty far until someone else ends up interfering.  
  
Haider grins at Zayn who shrugs naively at him. There are a lot of dumb people online. It's amazing—you feel like a rare species of common sense. “You know, I'll be honest, I'm gonna miss you.”  
  
Zayn can't help but smile either. Haider always insults him and that was his way to express his love for Zayn. It's only so rare to hear Haider say something such as this. “I will too.”  
  
Haider food settles in front of him. But he couldn't find himself to even take one because he's really serious about everything right now. “Paris. _Really_ , Zaza—I didn't expect you to place yourself in the city of love and all that shit.”  
  
“Paris isn't my favourite city but if there's an opportunity to leave a place you've been living in all your life to go somewhere else, _I_ _will_ take it.” Zayn plays with the edge of the mug by trailing his finger around.  
  
“How about your friends and family?” Haider asks, sipping his drink.  
  
“Eventually, I’m gonna have to move away. They’ll miss me but my presence isn't gonna be brought up every two seconds." Zayn pauses to chew one of Haider's onion rings. "Only you'd have to be so invested in me to have to feel that way.”  
  
“I beg to differ.” Haider finally takes an onion ring but then chews it so obnoxiously from the corner of his mouth.  
  
“I'd counter if you weren't saying the truth... I know.”  
  
“He's really sorry.” Haider quirks his lip awkwardly. “Why don't you forgive him?”  
  
“I always do; I just don't admit it. But he'd always ruin everything. I'm tired of it all.”  
  
“Well, he's not gonna tell you how sad he is. He knows it's his fault, he's aware of it. But... You are the reason why he won't tell you. You shut him down. Being his best friend, you won't even allow him to tell you what he's going through.”

This is the one time Zayn could count Haider ever being serious. It’s frightening actually; feeling his cheeks hurting by the flush, directing looking at the 24/7 idiot who really finds it amusing to fuck with everyone’s minds. Well, now Zayn’s mind is fucked.  
  
Blinking once, he shrugs loosely—there was nothing to do. “H-He came into my room today again, saying he missed me. I know it's wrong of me. It's just that I know he'll do it again—pretend like I don't exist. With what explanation?” Zayn scoffs, agreeing with the flow of reasons. “Then he told me I had to kiss him to _prove_ I want him gone.”  
  
“How'd that go?”  
  
“I didn't kiss him very well so he stayed. Come on, if he was trying, he wouldn't be pulling his stupid cocky moves.”  
  
“That's how he is now.”  
  
“I hate it!”  
  
“Well, he is only himself when he's around you but you can't even let him do that.”  
  
“It's not only him… I’ve been fucked up these few years too.” Because every time Zayn heard his name, he couldn't help but think how much he's fucked him over. It sucks when he’s known him his whole entire life, and there he is, only thinking about the amount of times Niall’s shut him down. It's not fair that he be put through something like this. He’s only been so kind to even let Niall in his room these few days—and what the hell has he been getting? This fucking garbage shit that he doesn’t even know what to call it. Zayn pulls out _the_ book, handing it over to Haider who eyes the cover before looking up to see an empty chair and money on the table. Best he better go than have everything exploding ‘cause now, he’s crying.  
  
Zayn doesn't stop to compose his anger this time, letting his cheek burn red through his tan skin while he keeps his head low. It's only at such a worse time when he brushes someone's shoulder. He looks up to apologize, but seeing Niall who's mouth opens to ask if he's okay. Instead, Zayn beats him to the point, letting his lips part and close between Niall's.  
  
He stumbles back, but Zayn pulls him back in grabbing his shoulders, pushing his mouth more onto Niall's, letting him taste the cigarettes he's smoked because of him.  
  
“Zayn—you're—” Niall murmurs half-way, cut off by the lips against his. Niall tries to keep up with Zayn's pace against his mouth, the two going without catching their breaths in between. Tilting his head, Niall allowed more closing and parting.  
  
Neither have the two kissed each other like this before, nor have they felt really weird for a long time until now. Zayn's losing his mind into this—drowning himself to the sounds of their mouths as they've become docile to his wishes. He can get used to the warmth of Niall's lips, his hold on his arms (because Niall doesn’t know what to do either but just hold them), and the way his lips would get so red when he'd press his mouth harder on his. He'd consume himself to these kinds of things, bringing that euphoria along when you feel the weight of someone on you. Zayn's never been familiar with a feeling like this and he's always wanted it with Niall who's never really allowed him that opportunity. Things have changed drastically with his feelings for Niall, which he doesn't know if they're able to change for him ever again.  
  
Zayn pulls back, eyes wet now. That's why Niall, before being cut off, was asking about. He tasted the tears that went down his mouth, shared between their attachment. Although, right now—he didn't have the words to ask why from the two minutes of them getting so devoted, is Zayn crying in the first place.  
  
"Just like you said and I did it." Zayn exhales shakily, wincing one eye really hard.  
  
"What'd you do?" Niall grumbles under fright.  
  
"Prove how much I want you gone." Zayn huffs, shaking his head.  
  
Niall can feel the slow beats from his heart right now because he might as well just die on the spot, hearing those words he never actually thought Zayn would admit.

This wasn't about the way he'd enter Zayn's room uninvited—this was about everything they've built, only to crash down because Niall couldn't apologize any sooner or any better. He provoked him, but never in his years knowing Zayn, would he peg Zayn to ever admit something like that. It's always been Zayn who's never left Niall. He was the one who was always so constantly around Niall that it should've been Niall who'd throw down words such as those. To hear it from Zayn, who's always been there every day in his life, he'd beat himself up to the point he won't wake up for making Zayn turn away. He just might.  
  
And he knows he's telling the truth this time, when Zayn sacrificed having his first kiss for this shit.  
  
When Zayn arrives home, the first thing he does is look for is his journal, wanting to burn each page out, etched of ink—ink he used to write on lines that helped fortify the walls of his mind and heart. He wrote about Niall once in a while. He may not have written directly about the blue and green irises of Niall's eyes in all of 200 pages—back and forth, or the countless freckles that constellated on his pallid skin. All the things he felt the need to concentrate on, was not about what he saw through his eyes, but the surge that came with it.  
  
Zayn flings his journal across before reading up on his French. The conjugations, the verbs, adverbs, adjectives, the endless number of times he has to go _j'ai, tu as, il a, elle a, nous avons, vous avez, ils ont, elles ont._ Fuck, why was the language so hard?  
  
Two in the morning, Zayn wakes up agape to really languid groaning and moaning, relative to a zombie. And it becomes silent, the discomfort losing itself to the night. Zayn's unsure where it came from, and it sounded as if it was in his own mind.  
  
It's clear he hasn't been sleeping lately.

 

 

Everything came slow to him—his surroundings, his thoughts, his world. He's closed doors on everybody, letting the void devour him, letting whatever the fuck could blind him from seeing anything good anymore. And he's closeted it all within, showing a face everyone wants to see—not the face he really has.  
  
He's learned if anyone learns your secrets, they won't look at you the same.  
  
He didn't want anyone to look at him.  
  
Zayn's waking up almost every two hours, uncomfortable and weary. Sometimes when he can't go back to sleep, he just lies there, letting the world fall before him, watching the world move on, leaving him behind to deal with a crisis, smothering him to death.  
  
School is much more terrible—especially at the end where all his classes are doing reviews for the exams. And all Zayn would want is to stay home. Even so, he's beginning to skip first period classes just so he could avoid Niall.  
  
Niall won't leave his mind, even when Zayn pushed him away physically and from his life like he has. In honesty, Zayn didn't want him literally gone from his life. He's known him for 13 years and he can't forget him so quickly. They haven't seen or spoken to each other for a while now. Weeks feeling like months, months beginning to feel like years, and years not feeling like anything he's ever been accustomed to. And it's only been four days. Even worse than not talking for 4 years.  
  
It's not fair that Zayn has to feel bad for saving himself from being hurt. And it's dysfunctional, the way he'll hurt if he goes both ways. He doesn't wanna forgive Niall and he can't forgive him anyways when he has to accept the fact that he's cut him off. There was no reason. There was no purpose behind it.  
  
“You have to talk to me.” Haider bangs on his door one day, when Zayn finds himself groaning in fatigue. He opens the door today, Haider weakly grimaces when he looks past Zayn's head. “You look like shit."  
  
“Oh, _thanks_.” Zayn murmurs.  
  
Haider looks to his right. “How you been?"  
  
“Fucked up.” Zayn shrugs. Haider nods at him.  
  
“I can see that.” Haider picks the sprawled journal on the floor.  
  
"But do you _feel_ it?"  
  
“Shit, nah. Never had these things happen to me before.”  
  
"Don't let it happen to you."  
  
Zayn's journal spoke what he couldn't say but this might be the end of that. He could just say it, like right now. And maybe he'll work on it. He takes the journal from Haider, straightening the folded corners.  
  
"How do you really feel?"  
  
“I miss him.” Zayn admits in remorse. “I-I think I hear him like, literally... I have no idea.”  
  
Haider rolls on top of Zayn's bed who didn't mind. “He told me he's just dealing with things. No big deal.” No big deal and Zayn's waking up to groaning and murmuring.  
  
“Did I do that?” Zayn's eyebrows narrowed in perturbingly.  
  
“I can't say.” Haider huffs.  
  
“I'm... It's my fault.”  
  
“You're so conceited, man. Why don't you ask him? You don't even know that this is going on until I've told you.”  
  
“So now I'm at fault?”  
  
“I'm not blaming you. But you would have figured this out if you were a friend to Niall instead of what you are now.”  
  
“That goes for him too.” Zayn gestures at the window, scoffing.  
  
“He's already tried, Zayn. And you never even gave him the chance to prove it to you potentially.” Haider yawns, throwing his hands back behind his head. “See, you should've taken it upon yourself not to figure out you were gay when you were 12 and find out you were in love when you were 10.”  
  
“Oh, what should have I done?”  
  
“Pretended that boys disgusted you, trick yourself into thinking you were straight.” Haider laughs with Zayn just shaking his head.  
  
“Then we wouldn't have been friends.” Zayn tightens his lip.  
  
“Isn't that easier?” Haider asks, laughing lacing with his voice.  
  
“Not really...” Zayn grumbles. “Where's my book?”  
  
“I dunoe, I think I gave it to Niall to give to you.” Haider whistles, turning Zayn's PS3 on.  
  
“Get it back.” Zayn growls, without much anger coming from his voice—more like annoyance. Haider has a strong effect of irritating everyone.  
  
“ _Yoooou_ get it back!” Haider says melodiously.  
  
Zayn heckles, “Then get outta my house and I might!”  
  
“Can I have a parting gift?”  
  
“Like what?” Zayn retorts.  
  
“Like your GTA. I'll give it you right before you leave. Just remind me because I'm not gonna remind myself because I want to keep it!”  
  
“I like your honesty. Take it.” Zayn throws it underhand to Haider.  
  
Haider holds him onto his word of getting his book back from Niall. He knows as soon as he leaves, Zayn wouldn't take a step near Niall to get his book back—not even a call to his name from the window. It's conniving of him to make Zayn walk him out of his house and push him towards Niall's steps.  
  
Zayn's never knocked on Niall's door. It's always been wait and let Niall come out so Zayn didn't have to do any of that. Now, with his fist shaking, his knuckles getting ready to knock on his door he makes a first step up with Haider shoving him up high each step.  
  
Three steps up—it doesn't suffice Haider. Even making it on the platform, still doesn't suffice Haider, knowing the hesitancy Zayn has deep within. Haider's shoulder is pushed against Zayn's back, body-checking the lad onto the door, both aware how strong it was to make the door and windows rumble.  
  
“Agh! Haider! G-get off!” Zayn groans. He's pushed against the door with his head held down on the clear, mosaic glass. His cheeks smushed, his cheekbone hurting with the way Haider is holding him against the door. The two hear steps inside, and they both thrash about.  
  
“Goodbye!” Haider lets go of his hold on Zayn, sprinting faster than ever. Faster than the times he's ever ran from bullies. He made them bullies—provoking and challenging people bigger and faster than him.  
  
“Haider, I—” Zayn exhales, anxiety running through every part of his body. He can feel the tears leaving the corner of his eyes, pressured under the reason of apologizing—one he can't leave, especially when Niall's opened the door on him already.  
  
“Um…” Niall mutters quieter than ever. He's never been this mute, or morose. “You've never knocked on my door.”  
  
“Hi then.” Zayn rubs his cheek, looking back if Haider is watching him. He wasn't because why would he?  
  
“You're here for your book. Right.” A month ago where Zayn declared he would stop talking to Niall. Still fresh in both of their minds. It's just Zayn didn't expect Niall to have expected it. He clutches the book in his hands. The whiteness of his knuckles disappears as he loosens the grip just as he offers it up to Zayn. “I read it. I hope that doesn't bother you.”  
  
“No, I remember—I gave it to you to read... Once.” Zayn holds the corner of the book with his forefinger and thumb.  
  
“Okay… Um, see you.”  Niall murmurs lowly that you can barely see his lips move. It's not about trying to get rid of Zayn—it was about letting him go, when he sees how Zayn avoiding his eyes.  
  
“Invite me in.” Zayn sighs out.  
  
“What?” Zayn's able to see the coral of the sea again through Niall's eyes when they gleam at him.  
  
But Zayn sighs again when he realizes he's got to repeat himself. It sounds really stupid through his ear. “I-I want you to invite me in... I-I can't invite myself in... I-It's kinda rude—”  
  
“Oh! Sorry…” Niall widens the opening the door for Zayn to enter. He does the polite thing and thanks Niall by grinning too tight. He's too afraid to even say anything and he isn't alone on that one.

They sit themselves in the living room with Niall the first one to do something—turn on the TV. They leave this huge gap between them on the couch, and in its entirety of this 30-minute show none of them even paid attention to, too busy thinking,  neither did Zayn say something or Niall. The obligation to make out the first word out of their mouth is Zayn—the one who knocked on his door, the one who pushed Niall away this time.  
  
Now he knows how Niall is feeling last month he was trying to apologize.  
  
“I need you, Niall.” Zayn huffs afterwards, turning his face fully from Niall, widening his eyes at himself. _What the fuck was that? Oh my god, I fucked up, I fucked up,_ Zayn panics. _Who says that?_  
  
Niall stares at Zayn ever-so innocently and turns off the TV. He could feel himself lighter even after those constant replays in his mind of Zayn kissing him then saying those words Niall doesn't want to ever happen again.  
  
“Can I sit closer?” Niall leans in to hear his answer better since Zayn is facing away.  
  
“You don't have to.” Zayn grumbles. Niall promptly scoots over, leaving this reasonable inch between them. He didn't have to move but it's not being able to have to—it's that he wants to.  
  
Niall breathes out nervously. “I need you too.”  
  
That's enough for Zayn. It’s not enough words but it’ll suffice everything. He's always been such a grudge holder but he's always been a strong forgiver of things. He has seen Niall screw up a lot and he's always tried to look over it—no matter how many times he's made Zayn tense and agitated. Maybe because Zayn's loved him—not in the way he's _in_ loved with him. It's in a manner of bonding together through the years. He won't throw all thirteen years away that they spent together for four years of unexplained conflict Zayn didn't hear the explanation for, even if he is still curious.  
  
All Zayn could think is the way Niall would wake in the middle of night. It has never left his mind the first night he heard it. He’d put this first over their ridiculous fight.

“Niall, I can like, hear you in the night. Kinda wanna ask—if things are okay.” It's not the first time Niall woke up in shock or the first he's ever come to realize _this_.  
“When it's late, I just think a lot, is all. Nothing serious.”  
  
“What about?” Remembering what Haider said before Zayn was pushed against the door; that it might not be about him. Apart of him believes he’s caused some type of self-confliction since he did push him out of his life for being pushed out of Niall’s. It’s unfair and self-righteous for Zayn to make it about them but it has been them all of their lives.  
  
“For one, it’s not about you.” The corner of Niall’s lip quirks up. Goddamn it, he knew him well.  
  
Niall leans against Zayn's shoulder, finding refuge when he feels the warmth sear through his skin. The feeling is very weird to Zayn who's never had this happen before. Going in with it, Zayn knows a lot about Niall's life and what goes on when he's been there all of his life. But he's never asked why things are the way they are. He hasn't questioned Niall about school like before. He's questioned their differences but it's as almost as getting no answer at all. It's just starting to add up gradually.  
  
Niall's lost faith in himself, leading to why things haven’t been the best. The effects of alcohol were things that screwed Niall up from time to time. His grades were something toilet paper can't even clean. They're practically shit but one and that would be math—out of all subjects. His attendance is very terrible—somewhere around 50 absences. He figured to give up because that's the easiest thing for him to do. Disappointing people came very easy because no one expects disappointment, making it the one moment no one has standards for.

“Like shit, I always hear how much potential I have.” Niall explains, tortured in thought. “And I don't care how I could do this and that if I try harder.” He huffs with a grin before he goes back to a wan kind of expression. “I'm _not_ going to try. I just hate everything.”  
  
Zayn lifts his arm to put Niall around him. What else is he supposed to do?  
  
“I haven’t figured anything out. I haven’t chosen a college.” Niall sulks even lower in Zayn's arm. “Not like I’m going.”  
  
Zayn can't say how much he understands everything because he doesn't. At least not the transition between high school and college since he's got it all figured it out. It took time but it's worth figuring out. Zayn wants a future and he's going to go for it. Niall seems like he doesn't.  
  
"You know what I wanna do?" Niall rests his head on his shoulder, sighing over Zayn's chest, creeping his arm over to the other side of Zayn’s body. "I wanna... Just stop."  
  
"What do you wanna stop?" Zayn ignores how comforting he is to Niall. He's never cuddled with someone before—let alone Niall when Zayn's caressing his arm with his thumb.  
  
"Just everything. I'm so tired of school, the potentials, and the pressure. I just want things to be like how they are now."  
  
"What's now?"  
  
"Um... This." He nods understandingly to himself. “We're okay, right?” Niall looks up right afterwards.  
  
“Yeah, we're alright.” Better than alright.  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
Zayn's face twists when it silence engulfs, but it’s not just that. It comes naturally when he hears something kind such as that from Niall.  They never thank each other. They'd repay each other to acknowledge the gratitude but never were they polite to say thank you. That was back when they were eight, when they'd be thanking each other if they gave each other lunch if one of them would forget. That was mostly Zayn who'd end up at early at Niall's doorstep so they wouldn't be late.  
  
Niall lifts his leg over Zayn's knee which was a leg rest to him. Zayn would bounce his knee to take Niall off if he wasn't filled with guilt over that fact that Niall's depended on him for these years to get through the stress. And he can remember a few weeks ago he kicked him out of his room. “Are y'really being honest when y'said you've never kissed anyone?” Zayn could feel the rush of air out of Niall's nose on his chest when he laughs quietly.  
  
“That being a joke?” Zayn scratches his head with his free hand. He couldn't fidget with his fingers when they were over at Niall's elbow with his whole arm around him. He needed something to fiddle with to get over the fact that made him wanna walk away from Niall.  
  
“No! No! It's cute.” Niall's nose crinkles as he laughs, legs jigging about above Zayn's leg.  
  
“Oh. It's not—cute.” Zayn in a grump, covers his face.  
  
“Zaynie baby,” Niall leans forward and closer to Zayn who’s pouting his lips out even more in distaste. His eyes roll to Niall who's grinning right at him. “Of course, it's cute.”  
  
He closes further in, the tip of his nose touching Zayn's. There's an inch between their lips before they'd brush together, and Zayn was biting his lip down so it doesn't accidentally touch Niall's. He even tilts his head in an angle, forcing Zayn to inch his head back. The laughter over his mouth forced him to back away even further until his head was leaning back on the couch. Conscious. That's all he is.  
  
Zayn ran through adrenaline that time to when he kissed Niall. It's not gonna happen anytime soon, knowing he's flustered just by Niall being so closed onto him.  
  
“You act like we've never kissed.”  
  
“You're my friend. Friends don't kiss.” Zayn mutters. Some stupid excuse. And he really did kiss him to prove his point, not to show any affection he has for him.  
  
“We're something else, Zayn. You—make the world _stop_ for me. No one makes me feel _so_ free like you do.” Niall snugs his face onto Zayn. “So I think we can qualify to do it again.”  
  
“Don't you have this thing with that Liam guy?” Zayn grimaces. No one knew what the two were with each other. They pretended like they didn’t know each other at school, but rumours were flying about them in parties. Zayn wasn't invited to any so the rumours flew into the school and he eventually heard it.  
  
Niall stammers as he feels his throat clenching. “T-they, Liam—they don't mean anything to me.”  
  
 _They?_   “Nice.” Zayn grumbles sordidly. There was always something to change Zayn’s mind about going far with Niall. He can even admit he's thought about him and Niall going out before. To still hear he's still shifting back and forth with Liam—it might not happen at all.  
  
“Zayn, you know me better than anybody else, why can't we be something?” Niall' sits up, putting the arm hugging his torso around Zayn’s neck.  
  
“Niall, we can't.” Zayn pulls himself up from Niall's enclosure. “I-I'm going home.”  
  
“What'd I do _now_?” Niall groans throatily, grabbing down the roots of his hair.  
  
It's the frown on Zayn's face of anxiousness that Niall feel's the nerves on his face tighten to a grimace. All the things Zayn worries about, Niall believes is his fault. Right now, just when they start to talk again, Zayn's more than eager to go home than to stay and make up for lost time.

But it's Zayn’s stupid impulsiveness that screws it all up for him—reacting so rashly.  
  
“Nothing! I-It's me. It's me, Niall.” Zayn's words rush out. This still doesn't relieve Niall.

He's able to tell if Zayn's going through something and he can tell Zayn loves him, even if the lad doesn't confess so. He'll show it but he'll be wary about it. That's how Niall can figure out if he's in love and he is— _with him_. It's not in the matter of being self-absorbed. He can just tell when Zayn knocked on his door that he does love him enough to do so. To have Zayn treating him like this; he knows he's messed up again.  
  
“I'm not fit for commitment.” Zayn exhales through his nose, just before sitting back down. Niall decides to inch away, aware this isn't going to be a good talk. “Neither are you, really.”  
  
“We've been friends for thirteen years. How committed can we get?”  
  
“It's different. Like you're talking about dating now and, like... I just think it's best if we don't.”  
  
“So do we wait until we're finished school?”  
  
“W-we don't. I don't see us going very far.” Zayn shrugs as if what he just said won't affect Niall. He's not even looking at him anymore and he can't even tell how malcontent Niall is to hear such a thing from Zayn. “I’ve never dated anyone. I don't think I'm mature enough yet. But I reckon I'm ready if I go to college and meet the right one...” Zayn doesn't realize the smile that grew on his face just when's beginning to think about his life here on after. On the other hand, Niall did and selfish as it is, he didn't want Zayn to find anyone else.  
  
Zayn was going to Paris to see a whole different atmosphere, and feel the difference too. Sure, the city is overrated but all Zayn can ask for is something new; and if it's Paris, then so be it. Paris was very new to him that he's been anticipating since grade eleven. Going there isn't just about finding someone to be there with him, it was about making a new life there and making it better than it already is back home. Then the bad; he couldn't make the bad any better than it already is.  
  
“You don't see us going very far?” That's all Niall heard. In his mind, why does Zayn think he needs to meet other people to love when they're right in front of each other? Someone like Niall shouldn't be so greedy for Zayn, when he's the one who's hurt him all this time. He didn’t even want to have to repeat what Zayn said about screwing up. Niall screwed himself up alright.  
  
“No. We stopped talking for four years. And now we come back like —alright,” Zayn presses the palm of each hand together, putting the tip of both his middle finger just under his nose. “Admit it—it's like weird now. I-It's not supposed to feel like this if we were to go far.”  
  
“Why would you go far with someone else you'd know just for a year?” Niall exasperates quietly.  
  
“I just want a new start.” Zayn winces at Niall. He just wants him to understand. “I always thought we would be something but it's really best that we don't.”  
  
“Zayn, I'm sorry. It was a _mistake_. I cut you off to make a new start too but look what's happened. Don't make the same mistake I did.”  
  
“I'm not cutting you off. We'll still be friends.” Zayn grins. The last thing he needs is not having any friends at all when he goes to Paris. He's got Haider too, and that's not enough.  
  
Niall leans his head back, and Zayn furrows his eyebrows when he looks at him. “Zayn—we can't. I can't explain it properly. But I can't just be friends. That's not...”  
  
“I came here to reconcile with you and you say we can't be friends?” Zayn starts to scowl, “are you serious?”  
  
Niall huffs and tightens his eyes shut for a quick second. “Friends don't kiss each other and expect that it's not enough. A-and it is—when you're with the right person, but i-it also isn’t, in a way you have to understand. Plus friends can't—they can't sleep together. It's different—” Niall stops himself when Zayn's eyes have widened. "Things are different. I don't think I can have different if it's not you."  
  
“I know everything would be different.” He relaxes and shakes his head. “But it's like—I don't want it to. Like I don't want different with _you_.”  
  
Neither did he want to have to find himself fighting with Niall over something unnecessary that's not worth the trouble for. They'd fight for something uncalled for, and have these thoughts of anger about each other that'll consume them. If it results to the two of them to be together, how were they supposed to be friends? Zayn wouldn't want to throw it all away and there would be a day that would come to happen—how is he supposed to be ok when they can't reconcile that next time?  
  
Niall doesn't see it like that. And Zayn can't help that he doesn't. Either way, he doesn't win if he walks away. Niall didn't want to be friends if they had to come to that point and Zayn did. It wasn't a bad choice but Niall just wanted more that Zayn didn't see.  
  
There were times he'd look at Niall and think about being together. He had always thought of that with him—even when they weren't talking. Only for a bit. He'd enjoy in the imaginations he'd have about unexpected embraces, kisses that would last longer than the night, eyes locked into each other’s like it'd be nothing. That's all he wanted without much changing, really. It isn't a lot, especially if Niall's condoning that they do.  
  
“It'd be a good different.” Zayn hadn't even realized how close Niall was to him again until he felt this light rush of air leave his mouth on his neck. “I'll show you how good it'd be.”  
  
Zayn didn't want to take that chance while he was sticking to his belief. But he was slipping away very fast from the idea of not getting together as Niall tempts him out of it. He'd push himself away if he could, but he just wanted to take a peek of what Niall would show. It wouldn't hurt him.  
  
He loses himself to Niall's mouth on his neck, feeling his lips part against his skin. It wasn't hurting him. In fact, it was good—Zayn loved how slow and gentle he was going. Niall didn't want to leave much on his neck so he kept going with the little soft sucking of his neck. He really tried hold off from grazing his teeth. They were small kisses on his neck that Zayn felt like he should be doing something back. Anyone would be crazy not to let something so enticing intoxicate you.  
  
“Stop, stop...” Zayn breathes out with a frown. Niall might've blocked that from his hearing, continuing himself around Zayn's neck. “N-Niall we can't. Are you forgetting Liam 'cause—” Zayn pulls himself even farther away from Niall who grimaces about this misfortune.  
  
“You're thinking about Liam while I'm thinking about you. That's not fair.”  
  
“You're going _out_ with him.” Zayn scoffs.  
  
“We just sleep together. We're not _really_ together.” Niall corrects him.  
  
“Oh,” Zayn groans exasperatedly. _That's_ who he was sleeping with.  ”But you're doing this with me? When was the last time you slept with him?”  
  
“You can't be serious.” Niall groans deeply. “It was probably a week ago.” He shrugs a shoulder.  
  
“A week? A week, Niall? You slept with him a week ago and you want something with me?” Zayn frowns in his hands. “I-I'm gonna go..."  
  
"Wait, why? Zayn, I said I'm sorry."  
  
"I'm not a second choice. Don't ever put me second behind someone.”  
  
Niall doesn't say a word to Zayn, letting him leave under some sort of resentment and guilt. He knows it's his fault, seeing how he and Zayn can't go anywhere past arguments. The love Niall was slightly confessing, that was the only risk he had ever pulled that didn't end the way he thought it would. It's stupid to think Zayn would just accept him like that because it's four years that they lost. But how is he supposed to know when this is really the only time they've ever talked to each other after ridiculous and unnecessary hi's and bye's in the hall that stopped? It affected Zayn worse between them. He was replaced with numerous people that aren't even important to Niall anymore. What's he supposed to say, _it's alright?  
_  
Zayn's mother let him in eat in his room. An exception was made that night when she saw how terrible Zayn looked. Not because of his attire, but he looked tremendously unhappy. How couldn't he be if Niall was sleeping with Liam and messing around with him? Zayn was some sort of rebound for Niall. _Never_.

That's not what he was there for. Finally letting himself open to Niall to show him just to see how different things would be, he's back to closing himself. So much for the knowing how well it feels to be with a best friend. That's all he is—even if Niall doesn't approve of it.  
  
Everything's quiet in the air. The only sound lingering in Zayn's room would be the pages turning of his English-French dictionary that he was giving another chance and his breathing. He hasn't been able to breathe easily since he came into Niall's house. He wasn't able to open his book until ten because his mom had stuck him with a sink full of dishes. Sometimes he thinks they've deliberately left 'stained' plates for him to wash even more. With five of them in the house, there couldn't be more than seven plates at least and there were ten.

 

 

At his spare, Haider's awake and actually functioning properly. They're walking to the library to finish off some notes; things Zayn hates doing. It makes his hand cramp. There, seeing him from the window, Zayn stops his steps. He looks at the window again, noticing Niall turning his head like he's looking for someone. Niall catches Zayn at the last minute, heart dropping to his stomach when Zayn's eyes look away to the side him and looks back to Haider.  
  
"I'm going to get air." Zayn turns to walk away.  
  
"Just wait a minute," There's a hand stopping Zayn from continuing any further. "By air, you mean cigarettes? Didn't you take health? Those kill."  
  
"Be my punching bag then." Zayn slowly blinks at Haider, face deadpan.  
  
"I know you're stressed," He puts an arm around Zayn's shoulder. "But let's go."  
  
Zayn doesn't know why he thought Haider would have any advice to soothe his mind back to tranquility. All that guy has in mind is a frog listening to elevator music. He believes a fly would come there from time to time, and that would mean Haider's actually thinking about something important.  
  
Then the first drum beat of his heart hits when Niall notices the two coming in. He looks happy. At least, he could fake it. Zayn's kept a straight face since he woke up, not even amused by Haider's antics with teachers.  
  
"H-hi." Niall’s stumbles over his word, lips clenching closed together afterwards.  
  
"Hey Ni—"  
  
"I thought libraries were stupid." Zayn stares unimpressed by Niall's hypocrisy while ignoring Haider's glare for cutting him off.  
  
"Oh... U-um..." Niall huffs, sliding down in his seat. His cheeks couldn't burn any more than it is now.  
  
"Yeah. See yeah." Zayn raises his hand as a gesture of goodbye, leaving Haider behind.  
  
Going to their corner, he sits leaned back on the surface of the bookshelf. His hands are clammy, but he still hides his face just because he feels rather angered, instead of feeling embarrassed.  
  
The library is open to anyone who needs the computers or silence to study. As for Niall, Zayn just doesn't feel he belongs here when he mocked it about a few days ago. He's here just so the teachers don't catch him skipping class when he really should be. Now, Haider's busy talking to Niall instead of him and he's at the back of the library, just waiting until Niall's done so he could give his best friend back.  
  
Being second choice to Niall shouldn't have an effect on him when all he wants to be with Niall is his friend. It shouldn't stop him from pursuing what he lost a long time ago. Dating isn't in Zayn's agenda when it comes to Niall. Still, being Niall's friend as a second choice if he were to date him isn’t comforting for him to live with. Just seeing Niall reminds him of being second, and he never saw Niall as much as he's seeing him now these days.  
  
"Z-Zayn...?" Even hearing him, all he hers is second, second. Why's he here at the back in the first place? Where's Haider?  
  
"I'm busy." Zayn slurs. His eyes strain at his highlighted paper while he jots the sentence down in note form. And _fuck!_ He's scribbling out the repeated word.  
  
"I just wanna ask how you are." Niall says quietly, almost in shame. Zayn knows he's between one of the book cases on his right. Not that it matters, he doesn't want to see him.  
  
"I'm fine." Zayn answers, half-annoyed. Suddenly he curses when his pen is inking through his paper.  
  
Niall nods despite Zayn not seeing so. He takes a deep breath, trying to remember what Haider told him. "I don't think I'll be able to talk to you some other time than now." He exhales, praying in his head for Zayn not to intervene what he has to say. So far, Zayn's still taking notes, or scratching his paper out. Whichever. "I just wanna tell you that you were _never_ second or third _or_ fourth." A deep breath again. "'Cause... Since I liked you, you were always first in my head. L-Like back in grade eight, when we had homework, I'd leave it to the last minute just to come over and be with you." Niall swallows the pressure down his throat. "And I-I'm saying I like you 'cause... I don't wanna be the dumbass who admits I love you." There's eagerness somewhere in his tenor Zayn can't seem to pick up on as he continues to write; pen digging down like he’s engraving his notes into linen paper. He thinks Niall's stopped. But there's something else. "I know you hate me right now; I don't blame you, actually. Except, let me take you out—l-like a date... And I'll tell you how sorry I am for everything."  
  
Zayn's pen stops midway a letter. Blinking continuously, he's wondering if he's imagining what he's hearing right now. He doesn't move—he just stops. Even his breathing slowed down. Finally registering everything, he looks quizzically at Niall who’s swallowing this weird build up in his throat, waiting for Zayn. That’s right; it was Zayn’s turn to say something. Just what does he have to tell Niall back?  
  
He doesn't feel anything but resent. Only resent on himself because—  
  
"God, I feel like a _dick_ right now," Zayn shakes his head, burying his face in his hands. "But I-I can't go out with you. I just can't do it."  
  
To look up at Niall again—Zayn's opportunity has flown by when Niall's already gone. He doesn't even look back for him. It's really not fair on his part to go searching for someone and make them think you've got the same feelings.  
  
That same feeling Niall wants between them already left Zayn a long time ago. It left his heart, and hid itself around the part in his mind where he wants those feelings to be completely gone, like when Achilles was dipped into the _River of Lethe_. If he has to drown himself in such a thing just to forget he had feelings for Niall, he will.


End file.
